by S. W. Frank
ASSOCIATES
Alfonzo Volume IX
Copyright © 2013 S.W. Frank
All rights reserved
ISBN 10: 1482367955
ISBN 13: 9781482367959
Printed in the U.S.A by Create Space
Publisher S.W. Frank
Cover image for illustration purposes only
No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system in any form without prior written permission of the author. Piracy of the book is a crime. Alfonzo detests thieves and liars, he also believes in Karma. Sometimes it is not laws which govern a person, it is what a person does when nobody watches which is the test of good character and the law of self.
AUTHOR’S NOTE:
This is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents and events portrayed in this story are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead is entirely coincidental.
Dedication
Thank you VIP’s for the wonderful discussions and unwavering support. The Inner Circle Book Club, you’re such a nice compilation of people who inspire a writer. I wish I could name everyone who has reached out and expressed their love of the story, but the list will be quite long. A very special thanks to Tiffany, Lucie, Allysen, Yvonne, Sharon, Nicole, Andrea, Barbie, Christi, Yolonda, Alanda, Kasha, Mya, Samantha and especially the incredibly talented Karen Moss for the beautiful Family Chart in the book, geez. The most inclusive and fabulous book clubs, ARC, BRAB, 3RW, BFB &SBC, Romance Junkies and those discovering the story, thank you. To the Indie Authors who speak encouraging words and have shown support. Hand to heart; I support you as well. And to my family, what is a writer’s life without your love and understanding? I would not know.
Love!
“Be still my heart; thou hast known worst.”
-Homer
“Don't go around saying the world owes you a living. The world owes you nothing. It was here first.”
- Mark Twain
“Man associates ideas not according to logic or verifiable exactitude, but according to his pleasure and interests. It is for this reason that most truths are nothing but prejudices.”
- Remy de Gourmont
“Hateful to me as are the gates of hell, Is he who, hiding one thing in his heart, utters another.”
-Homer
“Money is the worst currency that ever grew among mankind. This sacks cities, this drives men from their homes, this teaches and corrupts the worthiest minds to turn base deeds.”
-Sophocles
“There is no witness so terrible and no accuser so powerful as conscience which dwells within us.”
-Sophocles
“Cursed be he above all others who’s enslaved by love of money. Money takes the place of brothers, Money takes the place of parents, Money brings us war and slaughter.”
-Anacreon
Table of Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Prologue
There’s a psychology to getting consumers to buy. You have to make them salivate like Pavlov’s dogs to crave what you have. It must look appetizing, provide perceived pleasure and beliefs your goods or services will further enhance their lives. You do this by wrapping your product in an attractive package and then marketing your brand. That's what Chip learned early about business, and his strip club was doing quite well as a result.
The exterior of Chip’s establishments, from the bars to the strip joints were respectable and classy. The brass, glass and polished wood, devoid of those cheap neon signs or busty women plastered on doors like those seedy places near Times Square is what drew them in. His spots didn’t have pushy whores desperately clinging to customers from the moment they entered. The female staff wasn’t that kind. He made sure they knew the rules, dangle those tits, tease the poor slobs and play hard to get. Most importantly, no chit-chat with the customers, don’t come to work high, keep your ass clean and any side hustle taking place better be legit. Chip wanted the best. He paid well and on occasion he gave gifts; he wanted top echelon strippers at The Platinum Door.
Further enticement was the extra bling in the form of a posh atmosphere. Customers parted with their bill money willingly once they stepped inside and when they were done spending they went home and lied to their spouses about what happened to the cash. Chip laughed, some of the jokers who said they lost the money were actually being honest. They lost it in a pretty woman’s pussy, slobbering tits and pumping feverishly into curvaceous ass –lost!
The handsome people on magazine covers and commercials ads were being exploited and so were the consumers. Companies thrived because avarice is encased in every soul, find it, tap it, bring it out and you’ve discovered gold. Smart advertising firms knew the magic of marketing illusions to the masses; sex, excitement and beauty sell.
The stripper sliding down the pole is lovely, an acrobat and sexy. She’s luring money from pockets as she waxes her butt cheeks to shine that silver rod and smiling seductively in her employer’s direction as he passed. Her name’s Nina and she’s the star attraction. She’s fine as butter and has patrons drooling lustfully as if she were Pavlov himself. Chip gave a perfunctory nod in her direction. He didn’t want the woman distracted. 'Work magic and make me money,' was his thought. Nina's a stripper, whether she liked the title or not. She became upset whenever he said it; but Chip didn’t hedge words when it came to the truth. Nowadays, politically correct is lying because everyone’s afraid to speak and offend. The less offensive term is exotic dancer. In his view, taking off your clothes to sultry music and grinding poles for a living makes you a stripper, just like screwing a man for money isn’t a lady of the night, she’s a damn prostitute. Nina, the star attraction is both.
Everybody who was anybody in New York visited. Some even came from out of town for the entertainment. With the backing of the Caminello’s, he never had problems with troublemakers or the police.
High ranking Mafioso came through quite often. They were VIP members, with deep pockets who received the Diamond Treatment which consisted of a private room with a woman of their choice, food, wine and a dick sucking. A blowjob is performed by inexperienc
ed girls. Chip’s women weren’t blowing jobs; they were polishing up diamond dicks with their lips to give it a liquid shine.
Chip navigated around the aisles of tables, greeting a few regulars and patting shoulders as he passed. The seductive music had the patrons’ rapt attention and he smiled when he saw the full bar. Sex and liquor make a great team and he was the coach lining his pockets with financial victory.
Tony, a burly man with a chocolate complexion, sharp features and piercing brown eyes waited near the door leading downstairs. The spotlight stayed on stage and nobody paid heed when the door opened and the pair descended the stairs.
“What you learn?” Chip asked his worker.
“Nobody knows anything about the guy.”
“You telling me nobody know who the fuck he is?”
Tony held open the office door for his boss. “He’s a mystery.”
Chip went to his desk and pulled out a stack of bills in a rubber-band. “This is five grand for Sergio. Tell him it’s my peace offering and ask him about Mohawk and get a name. If the stupid punk asks why, just say I have a business proposition for Mohawk, you understand?”
“Yeah, I do.”
Chip nodded. “Mohawk might come in handy around here.”
Tony frowned. He’d been Chip’s right hand man for years. The Mohawk wearing prick with Sergio wasn’t shit. In a fight he could take him out, but he had his instructions and he’d follow to the letter, because that’s what good soldiers do, they obey. “Sure.”
Chip locked the drawer and sat. He wanted to reward Tony for his loyalty by replacing his ass. “No more shake-downs big guy. I need you in the clubs; watching over things, get what I’m saying? With Mohawk on board, he can handle the collections department and that’ll free you up for bigger things.”
Tony liked the idea and took the bait. “Okay.”
Chip folded his hands atop the desk. Men like Tony required stroking. What he needed is a no-nonsense man like Mohawk if he planned to ascend in rank within the mafia. The right soldiers and someone who got results is the only way to get there. Two hundred thousand, one hundred grand of it interest and a fifty as a bonus got Chip’s attention. Yeah, he wanted that guy on his side and Tony, well, if he didn’t like it, he’d get Mohawk to put a bullet in his head!
CHAPTER ONE
“For if there is a sin against life, it consists perhaps not so much in despairing of life as in hoping for another life and in eluding the implacable grandeur of this life.”
- Albert Camus
The warmth of the sun’s rays blanketed the island. The heat snuck its ass in early; it usually did in tropical places. Alfonzo was accustomed to the climate and wore his usual attire, a hand tailored suit. The platinum watch on his wrist caught the light and twinkled along with a platinum wedding band. On his right hand was an antique ring, the Supremo, a jeweled crest of a Giacanti Overlord whose glare nearly rivaled the sun.
The tanned skin glowed from nature's lamp, yet there wasn’t one trickle of sweat. The azul irises were as cool and dangerous as the sparkling blue ocean beyond Puerto Rico's sand.
Alfonzo stood in observance of the final phase of another construction project. He was the President, CEO, CFO, COO, and Overseer of many companies who insisted upon signing off on every goddamn check. He trusted no one. Greed and lust were dormant iniquities in every man.
The employees worked diligently to spread the gray mixture over the wire mesh before it hardened, aware the CEO watched their actions from several kilometers away. The cement mixer twirled and rumbled as it poured from the back of the truck which Alfonzo thought resembled a bee’s round ass. The workers quickly spread the concrete liquid. They moved with skill as their biceps flexed and perspiration glistened from their pores as they hurriedly worked to cover the large area. Alfonzo suspected their haste was to escape the heat which was expected to climb to ninety-eight degrees before noon.
The Foreman addressed the CEO. “The landscapers will return when we’re done to complete the walkway and parking lot.”
Alfonzo listened but did not respond and his eyes never wavered from a specific spot.
“We’ve finished ahead of schedule, bueno, no?”
Alfonzo nodded. Buried beneath the earth was Lou’s body without a coffin or any ceremonial libations. The treacherous man did not deserve a eulogy or any traditional valediction for his disloyalty. He was a piece of shit in Alfonzo’s eyes. In his crime business he didn’t get attached to the employees. They were exorbitantly compensated to do a job. Failure to perform or any incompetence called for immediate termination. Retirement packages were tombstones and heavy.
Alfonzo’s eyes narrowed. He wasn’t concerned about the landscapers or any of that shit. The only reason he stopped by this morning was to ensure Lou’s corpse remained underground. He scoffed. "Yeah, it’s very good. Nice work. Treat the guys to lunch. It’s going to get hot as hell, so let them break early, comprende?”
“Sí Senor Diaz, will do.”
Alfonzo pat the Foreman's shoulder with the hand bearing the Supremo and left the men to their work. He returned to the tinted reinforced Mercedes where Selange and the children waited. Close to the bumper was a heavy duty SUV occupied by armed men escorts. He opened the rear door and slid inside, checking his watch to make sure he hadn’t made Sal late for school.
Selange was on her cell phone when he returned to the air conditioned vehicle. Sal played a video game hunched over the small device in earnest and Aldonza clutched her Latina Princess backpack with her head on her mommy’s knees fast asleep. Estefan drove off when he got the signal from his boss and Alfonzo reclined his head listening to his wife talk.
“Yes, Cam. It’s seventy-three guests, not sixty. Right, fix it.” She lowered her voice he noticed. “Look, these are big-time contributors and they’re not willing to stand on their precious legs. Fat cats –sit, you understand?”
Alfonzo smirked at her last comment. When it came to that charity, she was a barracuda and it made him laugh. When she hung-up, her eyes turned to Alfonzo. “Everything okay with the building?”
“Yeah.”
With the children between them and the music from the video game as their stereo the parents talked over the kid’s head.
“Don’t forget, after your dental appointment with Allie, she’s to go straight to school.”
Alfonzo didn’t reply. That really depended on when they were finished at the dentist, but he didn’t debate with Selange, she was a stickler when it came to education.
“When you get home tonight sweetie, we have to go through the gifts and send thank you notes to the guests.”
“Um-hum.” Alfonzo mumbled. He wasn’t in the mood for conversation and preferred to listen instead.
“Your brother’s birthday is in a few days. The children made him a really cute card. I’m sending an adult bib along with it and some huge diapers for Geo. He whines like a big baby, lately!”
Alfonzo chuckled and his head moved as the vehicle bounced over uneven earth. Tomorrow he’d be in New York, ringing the bell on Wall Street. Afterward he’d have breakfast with the head of the Stock Exchange, and then there was a walk-through with the engineer at the construction site where a casino was being erected. It was near the Brooklyn Navy Yard and he had concerns about the cost overruns and stoppages. The Project Manager was having a problem with one of the subcontractors and Alfonzo surmised they were butting heads. The thing is there were loyal associates invested i
n the project. A tertiary contractor causing trouble was a problem which needed fixing and fast.
Then there were other families, pissed for not getting a share of the wealth, men who figured because they were old time mafia they were entitled to partake in what he built. The Caminello’s and his lot weren’t the guys he chose to do business with. Prostitution, drugs and short tempers were always a volatile combination and partly why his head pounded. He had so much on his mind, he'd become emotionally drained. Add Alberti’s unsolved murder to the pressure and there were nights he couldn’t rest. Yeah, he desperately tried blocking it out, but sometimes it didn’t work.
He had Nico on the Lou connection, but it didn’t stop the ire building for a taste of revenge. It increased every day, rising like some nasty flesh eating disease from his feet to his head. He enjoyed these quiet moments with his family because it helped him breathe easy and there wasn’t any pain or tension.
‘Coño, if I didn’t have this woman or my children I’d die from stress!’
Selange eyed him firmly. He looked tired, no –preoccupied. She wondered if Lou’s absence was responsible. “Usually you’re out the house at the crack of dawn with Lou, where is your faithful sidekick?”
Alfonzo turned suddenly toward Selange. Did she really want to know, he wondered? He gave a palatable answer. If she was as smart as he thought, she’d figure out the rest. “Lou requested an early retirement.”
Yep, she got it. The long lashes descended over her hazel eyes. He couldn’t tell whether it was to conceal the sadness or shock. An outright lie about Lou isn’t the verbal action he chose to take. The man had been with the family before the kids were born. Selange cared about Lou, and he hated to admit it, but he did, too. It’s inevitable when you’re in a person’s company day in and day out. He likened it to a stray dog, bring the mutt home, clothe, nurture and feed it and then for whatever reason the ungrateful bastard takes off. The desertion hurts a bit because it’s like you’ve lost part of a family. There’s a sense of betrayal when that happens. There are certain actions only pardonable by death, snitching is one of them, plotting to harm his family was another.
His wife nodded as she wrapped her head around what he hadn’t said before slowly sighing. “Alberti said the guys have dangerous jobs and they’re aware of the risks.” She met his gaze with intensity. “A forced retirement is an unspoken codicil in the employment contract, I suppose. What matters is you’re okay with signing off on it, are you honey?”
